


The Birthday Dinner

by samworth



Category: Hogan's Heroes
Genre: Gen, Short Story Speed Writing Challenge 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-31 09:30:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19423219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samworth/pseuds/samworth
Summary: It was his birthday, and all he had wanted was an easy mission, some quiet and maybe a nice diner. So, how did he end up in the cooler? Written for the SSSW 2019 challenge. Crossposted.





	The Birthday Dinner

**Author's Note:**

> Used lines are in bold. Cooler layout for this story is based on the episode "Six Lessons from Madame LaGrange" (the one where LeBeau teaches Hochstetter to dance).

" **That's the smallest general I ever saw**." Newkirk lit up a cigarette while he watched the SS general in his black uniform getting out of his staff car even before it had properly stopped. That one was a man of action. He had already closed his door by the time as one of his adjutants reached for the door handle.

"No way," Carter said and stop washing his undershirt with his hands half-way submerged in the water. "He's at least taller by a head than LeBeau." He still held the soap as he tried to demonstrate the difference with his hands.

"Blimey, you're getting everything wet," Newkirk complained and stepped away, adding more space between the wash water and himself.

"Who is taller than I?" LeBeau dumped another pile of dirty clothes into Carter's basin. He glanced to the German officers in front of Klink's office. The bald eagle himself was already out there to greet his guests. He seemed delighted or at least not as afraid as usual. Maybe he just didn't know him yet.

"Newkirk says that this is the smallest general he has ever seen."

"For a German!" Newkirk threw up his hands in frustration. He took a calming pull on his cigarette, his eyes not leaving the scene in front of Klink's office. "For them it's a requirement to be big and tall to become a general."

LeBeau snorted. "That would explain the lack of stars on Klink's shoulders. He's too lean."

While Newkirk smirked in agreement, Carter eyed his friends and the work in front of him with distaste. "Why do I have to do all the washing?"

"LeBeau has brought you the clothes, Kinch tells Hogan that we got company and I observe the Germans." Newkirk shrugged. "That leaves you to wash." Chuckling, he fumbled for the door knob behind him and vanished inside the barracks with LeBeau on his heels, leaving a fuming Carter outside.

* * *

Klink's office seemed suddenly too small. Of course, he usually didn't have to host a general and his staff. But who needed not one but three adjutants? He forced his mind back to the general in his office and offered him a cigar.

"How can I be sure that my briefcase is safe in your safe?" the man asked. For Klink's limited experience with generals, this one seemed to be too fit. If he suddenly pulled out a gun and started to shoot, Klink wouldn't be surprised.

"Oh, General Wagner, there is no safer place in all of Germany," Klink said. "There has never -"

"- been a successful escape and you are not plagued by bombing raids," General Wagner finished for him and grabbed a cigar. "General Burkhalter was kind enough to explain this to me as he recommended your camp for an intermediate stop."

Nervously, Klink shut the cigar box. Before he could offer him fire, one of his adjutants, a Major Schneider, had already his lighter out. "I'm glad to -"

"I won't need your safe," Wagner said after he inhaled the first puff of his cigar. "I learned long time ago, if you eliminate your enemies, you still have to watch your allies."

"Of course," Klink agreed. He had no real clue what he agreed to but this general was even more dangerous in his calmness than Burkhalter on a warpath. "I can assure you-"

"I'll take my briefcase with me. You're guest quarters should be safe. I assume you have your prisoners cowed enough or do you need help?"

Klink shock his head. The man seemed young for a general with a muscular body that appeared to be ready for a one-on-one fight and strong hands that could probably snap his neck. "They are completely cowed," he confirmed and glanced to the door, hoping that for once Colonel Hogan wouldn't barge in.

"Good. Then I'll leave my adjutants to watch each other and you. I'm going to depart tomorrow before noon. Until then my safety and the safety of my briefcase is your responsibility."

Colonel Klink tried to smile, but he had already problems breathing normally in the face of the calmly smoking general.

Involuntary, the phrase 'shaking in your boots' came to mind.

* * *

"And now I am interested what secrets he has put in there." Hogan unplugged the coffee pot. "So, we need a way to get the man out of his quarters and away from his briefcase."

"He's a really mistrusting mate," Newkirk said. "He doesn't even trust his own men."

"But even such a fellow has to eat and who will decline an invitation to a dinner party?" Hogan pulled out a calendar. "Let's see, whose famous German's birthday is today?"

Kinch's finger found the right date first. "Nobody's."

"Well, any anniversary?" Hogan glanced around but was only met by blank faces. "Nothing?" He screwed up his face. "All right, then we need to repeat -"

"We had Klink nominated for the commandant of the year just last week. And the month before we had a day to honor POW camp commandants and before that -"

Hogan held up his hand. "I get it. We need to come up with something new."

"Actually, sir," Carter raised his hand, "it's your birthday and -" Newkirk silenced him with a jab in his ribs and a furious look on his face.

"It is?" Hogan asked, glancing down on the date. Sure enough it was his birthday. "You didn't plan anything, did you?" One look at the averting gazes of his men was enough to confirm it. "I told you-"

"Nothing big, sir," Kinch hurried to say, "just something small. It's not going to explode in our faces and the Germans won't notice."

Despite himself, Hogan smiled slightly. They had remembered his birthday and given him an idea at the same time. "All right," he clapped his hands together, "that's the spirit and this is how we're going to do it."

* * *

LeBeau gave Carter a nod, the agreed signal for him to start the small explosion.

Boom.

Wit his eyes closed, LeBeau waited behind the table until the dusk had settled. Surveying the damage, his eyes widened. The kitchen looked bad, every surface was covered in white powder. The floor and the wall behind the oven was full of mashed potatoes. Carter had done a fine job simulating a cooking accident.

He waited until Schultz and Colonel Klink had arrived before acting out the scene Hogan had written for them.

" _Espèce d'idiot_! What did you do!" LeBeau seethed. "Can't you watch out! Now you have destroyed everything."

"What is going on here!" Schultz demanded.

Carter didn't even glance to the German guard, fixated on the verbal fight with LeBeau. "You didn't -"

"Silence!" Klink shouted. "What it's going on here?" He glared from LeBeau to Carter. Both refused to answer.

In the silence, LeBeau heard the heavy boots before he saw him.

"My, my!" General Wagner entered the kitchen, drawn to the excitement like moths to the flame. "If I wouldn't know better, I'd say the front line had come here."

An unsure smile tugged at Klink's lips. "General Wagner, what are you doing here? You don't have to deal with this." He picked at his cuff. "That's my duty."

"I just like to watch," Wagner replied in a voice that made LeBeau shivers. Narrowing his eyes, he could understand Klink's behavior. This German general was bad.

"Thirty days in the cooler for both of you after you have cleaned up here." Klink turned to his guard. "Schultz!"

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant!" Schultz saluted just as Colonel Hogan rushed in.

"Colonel Klink, I must protest-"

"Your men tried to blow up my kitchen," Klink didn't wait for Hogan to finish. "Now they spend the next thirty days in the cooler. End of it." He hurried to the door.

"Herr Kommandant, the Geneva Convention," Hogan began before he finally looked to General Wagner who seemed almost amused. "Oh, I see, you have a guest. I'm Colonel Hogan, the senior ranking POW officer," he introduced himself.

"And you must protest," Wagner said with a smile. "General Wagner of the SS. I understand that."

"You do?" Hogan raised an eyebrow. "That's great." He turned to Klink. "See even General Wagner agrees with me. You can't just send them to the cooler without hearing their reasons. Maybe they wanted to show you their affection."

Carter nodded. "Yes. But LeBeau wasn't careful enough. He -"

"I wasn't careful enough?" LeBeau shouted. "You blew up the kitchen-"

"Silence!" Klink's order stopped for once every argument. By an unvoiced agreement, they didn't want to highlight Klink's incompetence in front of this general.

"So, why did you break into the kitchen and destroyed it in an attempt to cook?" General Wagner asked before Klink could find his voice again.

Klink smiled feebly as if he hadn't been reduced to a minor role in his own play while LeBeau forced a surprised expression on his face.

Wagner chuckled. " **The French have always been great cooks, but terrible fighters.** You wanted to cook something, not blow it up."

"Corporal LeBeau!" Klink planted himself in front of the French corporal and raised his fist. "What were you trying to do! Tell me!"

"Louis LeBeau, Corporal, serial number -"

"I don't want to hear your serial number," Klink interrupted, "but what you were trying to do in my kitchen."

"We just wanted to cook something for -"

"Carter!" Hogan admonished his sergeant, all perfectly according to the script.

General Wagner put his hands behind his back and tapped his toes. He looked pleased with himself, seemingly enjoying the show.

"Hogan!" Klink was clearly out of his element and out of control of the situation. Sergeant Schulz looked from one officer to the next in growing confusion.

"Corporal LeBeau you have three seconds to tell me what you were doing in the kitchen," Klink tried again.

"Louis LeBeau, Corporal, serial number -"

"Fine," Klink snarled, "that's sixty days in the cooler for Carter. Do you want to raise it to ninety days for your friend?"

LeBeau blinked. Even Colonel Hogan raised an eyebrow in surprise about the clever trap Klink had sprung on them. After a moment's hesitation, he gave LeBeau a barely visible nod.

"It's Colonel Hogan's birthday," LeBeau forced the words out, trying to appear terrified. "We wanted to cook him a nice dinner."

Klink nodded along. "A nice dinner. Perhaps also an escape attempt?"

"Herr Kommandant," Hogan interfered before LeBeau could answer with the first thing that came to mind. "Surely, you prefer my men trying to cook dinner to planning an escape?"

Klink scowled. "No birthday party. This is a -"

"Colonel Klink," Wagner interjected, "why don't you enjoy the free offer from a French cook to prepare you dinner. I'll invite myself and for fairness' and safety's sake, we'll also allow Colonel Hogan to participate. It is after all his birthday."

Hogan's smile thinned down until only a grimace remained.

"Of course, Herr General. Marvelous idea." Klink swirled around to LeBeau. "Corporal, you heard the general!"

LeBeau nodded. It was after all what they had wanted, just not the way it was supposed to happen. He sighed as Schultz marched Carter away. It would be a long day in the kitchen.

* * *

Newkirk looked around, before he slipped into Klink's guest room. He only had a few moments before he would be missed as he was the waiter for the evening. Colonel Hogan would buy him as much time as possible but there was a limit.

Still, taking a moment waiting for his eyes to become adjusted to the darkness in the room, Newkirk listened to the surrounding sounds. It didn't matter how often he went out for the colonel, his pulse never failed to rise. Beside his own heart beat, he couldn't hear anything else suspicious.

Carefully, he walked around the bed and opened the window. Kinch waited outside like the dependable mate he was.

They didn't speak. Instead, Kinch climbed in and together they searched the room until Kinch pulled out a briefcase.

"Under the pillow, really?" Newkirk couldn't help himself.

"It's better than a loaded gun, isn't it?" Kinch answered.

Newkirk shrugged while he pulled out his tools and started to work on the lock. With practiced moves he had the lock open in no time. Kinch pulled out several papers and started to study them. Before Newkirk could decipher the German, Kinch had already gotten the gist of it and started to frown.

"What's-" he began as he heard heavy boots outside. Alarmed, he glanced to Kinch.

"- and check for my briefcase!" They heard dimly General Wagner's voice. The footsteps gathered speed.

Kinch grabbed the papers, killed the light and shoved the briefcase back under the pillow. Without waiting to see if Kinch jumped out or hid, Newkirk opened the door and slipped out. He closed the door as softly as he could. Then he hurried across the small corridor and opened another door, this one leading to Klink's bedroom and pulled it shut just as Captain Mueller came around the corner.

"Halt! What are you doing there!"

"Nothing," Newkirk used his anxiety and let it color his voice. "Nothing, just serving food."

"You don't need to serve food in Kommandant Klink's bedroom!"

Newkirk raised an eyebrow. These adjutants were nothing but efficient if they had already learned the layout just in the few hours they had been here.

"I got lost." Newkirk knew the longer he talked the more time Kinch had.

"What were you doing!" the German captain demanded again before he opened the door to the guest room and glanced into it.

Not daring to breath, Newkirk couldn't think of a single lie.

"Stealing, right?" Captain Mueller shut the door again before he shoved Newkirk away to open Klink's bedroom door. "Let's see what Colonel Klink has to say to this!"

Newkirk heaved a sigh of relief. As long as they would concentrate on him, Kinch would be fine and could finish the job.

* * *

Kinch took another photo hoping that his hands remained steady enough to result in sharp pictures. Between his acts of espionage and the Germans was only a thin wooden door. He swallowed hard, fumbling the pages with shaking hands. It wasn't only a door but a door and a friend. He couldn't understand what Newkirk was saying but it seemed to work. He hadn't been disturbed since the short glance into the room.

Having turned over to the next page, he prepared the camera.

As far as he could tell, it was a shopping list. Names, addresses, dates, state and then a list of things - a Monet, contents of a safe, silverware and everything else that could be valuable.

He took another picture.

Most of the dates were in the past but there were several dates in the future. This was the reason he took his time to take a photograph of all pages. There still could be names that didn't need to end with the status 'deceased'.

Three short knocks against the wall startled Kinch, and he looked up. Addison peered into the room through the open window. "We saw Schultz marching LeBeau and Newkirk to the cooler and thought you probably need help."

Kinch nodded and turned the last page. " **Hide it in the barracks,** " he said and held out the camera to Addison, " **and I mean hide it so even we can't find it.** "

"You got it," Addison said and vanished back into the dark compound.

"Be careful," Kinch added unnecessarily. Addison wasn't as seasoned as Newkirk or LeBeau or even Carter, but he knew his way around the camp.

Finishing up meant putting back the papers, closing the lock, hiding it beneath the pillow, shutting down the light and locking the window from the inside again. The last act removed his way to escape but it would ensure that the general wouldn't become suspicious and starting to search the whole camp.

It left him with only the way through the kitchen as escape route. He closed his eyes, counted to three trying to calm down his heart and then fumbled for the door knob. Carefully, he opened the door and peered outside. If Schultz had brought LeBeau and Newkirk to the cooler, Kinch should have free passage though the kitchen. Taking the chance, he dashed forward and found the kitchen deserted. Without pausing, he hurried outside and pressed himself against the wall, hiding deeply in the shadows.

Across the compound, he could see Addison in a similar position. Kinch frowned. Addison should have been in his barracks by now. He leaned forward trying to spot whatever had thwarted Addison's route to safety. After almost leaving the safety of his shadow, he finally spotted the problem. Two of the three adjutants of General Wagner prowled across the compound messing up the pattern of the guards.

Suddenly, one of them changed his direction and began to run square to Addison's hiding place. With no time to lose, Kinch turned, left the safety of the shadows and sprinted across the light to the wire. The fence loomed in front of him as the powerful light of the guard tower lit up the ground around him. He froze and raised his hands.

"Halt!"

Running footsteps meant it worked, he had drawn them away from Addison and the film.

* * *

General Wagner chuckled as he sat down again. "Colonel Hogan, I have to say whatever you are planning it isn't working." He opened his napkin as Hogan also returned to his chair. "You have already lost four of your men for thirty days in the cooler, one even for sixty days. Are you sure it's worth it?"

Hogan fixed a smirk on his face. " **You know, being a prisoner of war is a very dangerous branch of the service.** My men are all volunteers."

Wagner laughed out loud. "I knew it was a good idea inviting you. Makes a stimulating conversation in otherwise dull company."

Klink frowned . Then he opened his mouth as he finally registered the insult but was saved from participating in a dangerous conversation by Langenscheidt who brought the soup as first course.

* * *

"That's depressing," Kinch murmured as a stared at the gray wall and the bars. He shivered in the damp air.

"Just be glad that you usually escape this fine establishment," Newkirk grumbled. He huddled on the bed in his cell.

"I'm hungry," LeBeau complained, pacing his cell. "I cooked all day and didn't get anything."

"You could eat the bread the guard had brought," Carter offered.

"You're still chewing on the one bite you took," LeBeau shot back.

"But I'm not hungry anymore and if I chew long enough it tastes even sweet." Carter could find the silver lining in everything.

Apparently, LeBeau was really hungry as he grabbed the bread with a face as if he'd rather touched a dead rat. "The colonel gets all the food, and we have to deal with sawdust bread."

"I still have two raw eggs from this morning," Carter offered suddenly.

LeBeau tilted his head, apparently thinkg. Then his hand disappeared in his pockets and he started to rummage. A smile lit up his face as he pulled out two small bottles. " _C'est bien._ We have oil, vinegar and eggs. Now we just need some salt, a whisk and a bowl."

Kinch had no idea what LeBeau wanted to make but one sniff of the bread, and he knew that he would help him. Without a word, he pulled out his spoon and held it up. "Not a whisk, but would that work, too?"

Newkirk provided salt, and Kinch decided that he didn't want to know why and how Newkirk had gotten salt into the cooler. LeBeau's enthusiastic face was good enough. For the bowl they substituted one cup of their cups for water and another one for the egg white LeBeau had put aside for later use.

Then Kinch settled down on the ground, leaning against the outer wall. He watched LeBeau stirring fiercely the content of his cup while Carter and Newkirk argued about one thing or another. It was almost normal.

* * *

"... and then they ran around screaming like chickens!" Wagner laughed out loud. His fingers clutched his wine glass. It was already his third and the alcohol had loosened his tongue.

Klink sipped at his glass and chuckled, while stealing glances at Hogan. Apparently, Hogan wasn't the only one who failed to find the humor in the stories Wagner told.

"You know, Herr General," Hogan said while he rubbed his thumb against his glass. "Shooting women and children in the back is not really honorable. We call that war crimes."

Wagner huffed. "What do Americans know about honor? You hide in your cities across the ocean and wait until we cleaned up the mess." His face became red from the wine. "But don't worry we'll have New York in range of our weapons soon enough."

Hogan paused, his fingers stilled on the cool glass. Before he could answer, Corporal Langenscheidt opened the door and brought in the main course. It smelled delicious but as Wagner dug into the lamb on his plate, Hogan found himself unable to pick up his knife.

"You look a little sick there, Colonel Hogan." Wagner grinned at him. "You should eat. Or did I scare you because we are going to attack your New York like you bomb our cities?"

Klink lowered his gaze and started to eat as fast as he could.

"No," Hogan straightened, "it's the company that spoiled my appetite." He put down his napkin and put his hands on his chair to move it back. "If you excuse me, I have to write home and warn them." He started to rise.

"Sit down and enjoy your birthday dinner! Your men made it for you and paid with thirty days in the cooler." Wagner ordered with a voice like steel. His posture hadn't changed and yet Hogan detected the danger lurking beneath the calm exterior.

"I'd rather not."

"Why not? Do you not like the neighborhood?" Wagner asked. "After all, we provide you dinner and entertainment for your birthday."

"You will do as the general said or do you want to join your men in the cooler?" Klink hissed, his fingers trembling. Hogan knew that it wasn't anger but fear that resulted in this unusual display. If he had to guess, Klink didn't want to be alone with this general. Well, he couldn't help him there. It was his guest after all.

Hogan forced his chair back and stood up. " **Frankly, General, I thought it was a lousy neighbourhood anyway**." He turned to the sergeant standing next to the door. "Shall we Schultz?"

"Where are you going!" Klink demanded and raised his fist.

"To the cooler, sir," Hogan answered. "Just like you said." He acknowledged General Wagner and offered Klink a small smirk. Then he walked out of the room with his head held high, a befuddled Schultz trailing after him.

"No leftovers for me?" Schultz muttered while he closed the door behind him with a forlorn look at the full table.

* * *

The cell door banged shut behind Hogan. In the adjourning cell his men stared at him with various degrees of surprise and confusion.

"I'm awfully sorry, Colonel Hogan," Schultz said. "I'm sure that Colonel Klink -"

"- is going to come here the moment Wagner has left." Hogan settled down on the bed. His poor dress uniform should have never been subjected to this place. "I know. Don't worry, Schultz," he offered the German sergeant a smile, "this is a better place for me than back there with General Wagner."

"But Colonel Hogan, it's your birthday!"

" **Well, let's face it, no day's perfect.** " Hogan shrugged and settled down on the bed, stretching out his legs. It was a terrible posture for an officer but then again this was a terrible environment.

Schultz frowned but nodded. "I will be back in a few hours."

Nobody spoke until Schultz's footstep were followed by the bang of a closing door.

"Didn't expect to see you here, sir," Kinch commented. "What happened?"

Hogan shrugged. "Bad neighborhood. I decided to move."

"Did you at least enjoy your meal? I made the best with the ingredients I got from the _bouche!"_ LeBeau grabbed the bars.

With a grimace on his face, Hogan shook his head. "I didn't stay until they served the main course."

"Did you get anything at all?" Kinch asked.

"Oh, I got a bit of the soup," he answered, withholding that he had gotten it on his hand and face. Langenscheidt wasn't good as waiter.

LeBeau scowled at Newkirk while Carter openly stared at the English corporal. Newkirk looked down, scraping with his foot at the floor. "Blimey," he cursed, "fine. We still have something. We actually wanted to wait for the guards to leave, so we can have our own feast."

Intrigued, Hogan raised an eyebrow. "What do you serve in this fine restaurant."

LeBeau crossed his arms. "Hard bread, watery soup and some self-made mayonnaise."

Hogan snorted. "Sounds delicious." He had wanted to make a joke, but suddenly he started to smile in earnest. It really did sound delicious compared to the atmosphere back in Colonel Klink's quarters.

"Colonel?" Kinch held out a small cord, maybe some bootlace. At his nod, he flung it through the bars, keeping one end.

Hogan easily fished the other end out of the air. "Who is managing things with all us here? And what's that for?"

"Olsen?" Newkirk shrugged. "It's not like we expected to see you here." He pulled out a cup from under his bed and started to tie another cord around the handle.

"Addison hid the film. As long as we don't hear any alarm they did their job well," Kinch reported. "Baker can man the radio. Tomorrow, you're out again and until then they can hold down the fort."

Hogan nodded. It wasn't the first time he was unavailable. But he suspected it was the first time all the core team was unavailable. Maybe he should have suffered through the dinner. But Kinch was right. They knew how to deal with it.

"Colonel?" LeBeau waited for him to look up before he threw his scarf across the floor. Hogan caught it.

"All right, I have a shoelace and a scarf. And now?"

"Now, we serve your dinner. You just need to pull it to you."

LeBeau put down some bread on the end of the scarf and Kinch had retrieved the cup from Newkirk and tied it to his bootlace. Hogan started to pull his food slowly across the dirty floor. He had to remember just how hard this part was the next time he asked one of his man to volunteer for thirty days in the cooler.

Carter scowled. "That's stupid, now we can't even give the colonel our present."

"I'm sure it's still down in the tunnel tomorrow. For now, I enjoy your dinner party." Hogan dipped the bread into the kind-of-mayonnaise. It didn't really taste like mayonnaise at all and the bread was painfully dry. And yet, he had more appetite than in Klink's living room.

"And?" LeBeau asked eagerly.

"Shut up, LeBeau. He wishes already that he had stayed."

"Actually, Newkirk," Hogan said and glanced across the bars, looking at his men. "I don't. I'd rather eat old bread with mayonnaise with some friendly faces in the cooler than the best meal in wartime with the enemy."

And as he chewed hard on the bread, Hogan knew that this was one of his best birthday dinner.

Preparing the cup of mayonnaise for another trip across the floor, this time to Carter, Hogan turned back to the next question. "Now, what did you fellas get me for my birthday?"

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> _Thank you for reading!_


End file.
